A Cottage by the Sea

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A Cottage by the Sea Page 23

by Carole Matthews


  I too tighten my helmet before I back away from the edge and lean against the rocks behind me in preparation. My breath is ragged and I can hear my heart pounding in my chest.

  ‘Come on, Grace,’ Noah shouts from below. ‘You can do it!’

  That’s the spur that I need. Without further thinking, I run and launch myself out from the cliff and into the blue sky. I’m rushing, rushing, light and free. And I realise that I want to feel like this for ever.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I plunge down, down into the ocean. The ice-cold water of the Atlantic swallows me up. I’m a tiny, insignificant speck in the infinity of the waves. Just when I feel that my lungs are about to burst, I’m rising again and I pop up like the cork out of a bottle, my head bobbing above the waves. I add my own yelping to the shouts of delight from my friends.

  ‘That was fantastic!’ I yell. My helmet is skew-whiff and my buoyancy aid is up round my nose somewhere. I can hardly contain my excitement. ‘Let’s do it again!’

  ‘I’m up for it,’ Noah says. ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Art punches the air.

  ‘Harry?’

  He holds up a hand, coughing and spluttering. Perhaps drinking before coming out wasn’t the best idea. ‘Still getting my breath.’

  I should stay with him. I know I should, but I can’t. Something inside me feels that I don’t want to miss out on this experience. I may never get the chance to do it again. It’s as if I can feel life rushing through veins that have got all clogged up with city living.

  So Art, Noah and I all swim to the rocks together and climb back up to the platform. Flick is still standing there with Callum. She’s shivering and looking miserable.

  ‘Want to jump with me?’ Noah says. ‘It feels fabulous. Honestly.’

  Flick shakes her head. ‘It’s too high for me. I might try it lower down.’

  I feel giddy with adrenaline. Before I can catch my breath, Art has launched himself off the cliff again. So I run after him and do the same, shouting as I fall. All the tension of the last few days leaves my muscles and flies free on the wind. Moments later, Noah splashes into the sea beside me. We burst through the surface of the water, giggling like loons.

  Harry has got out and is now sitting on the rocks with Flick who has climbed down to him.

  When we’re all treading water again, Noah says, ‘One last time?’

  I nod.

  Art says, ‘I’m done. We’ve hardly started yet. I should conserve my energy.’

  ‘Just me and you, Grace,’ Noah says and, despite my having swallowed a gallon of salt water, my mouth goes dry.

  ‘OK.’

  So we swim to the shore in tandem and climb the rocks, Noah helping me all the way. At the top, we stand close, looking out over the sparkling sea.

  ‘Together?’ he says.

  My face breaks into a grin. ‘Hell, yes.’

  He takes my hand in his and the strength of it makes me feel as if I could conquer the world. We back up against the rocks behind us.

  ‘Ready?’ he asks.

  I nod and then, as fast as we can, we take a run at the edge. As we fly out into nothingness, as one, shouting at the sky, with fingers entwined, our eyes meet. And I know that, at this moment, I’ve never ever been happier.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Sadly, we leave behind the adrenaline-junkie jump and Callum leads us scrambling and crawling over the rocks, working our way round the coast. For the next hour we’re bashed and crashed, tossed and twirled by the waves. The reward for braving the maelstrom is that we swim deep into cool, dark caves and lever ourselves along narrow ledges until we’re right inside secret caverns. The rugged landscape is just so spectacular.

  Harry and Flick have done really well. Callum has kept us quite low to the water and he’s taken it at a pace that we could all manage. We haven’t done any more of the high stuff, but we’ve jumped from lower outcrops of rock and Flick has given that a go. She didn’t look entirely enamoured of the experience but, all credit to her, she did it.

  Now we’re up against a sheer face of rock on a narrow ledge, negotiating a particularly slippery area. We’re strung out in a line, pressed tight against the cliff, making our way round a sharp headland.

  ‘Careful, guys,’ Callum warns. ‘When the waves come make sure you hold on tight.’

  Callum has already turned the corner when the sea washes over me. The powerful wave takes away my breath and threatens to dislodge me, but I hang on to the rocks for dear life. Seconds later, it recedes and I brace myself for the next onslaught. As it hits, I grab the rocks again and cling on.

  The next thing there’s a cry and, when I look round, Flick has been pulled from the ledge and into the sea. She’s being buffeted by the waves, arms flailing. Without a moment’s hesitation, Harry and Noah jump in and swim to her aid. In a dozen strong, swift strokes Noah reaches her first and, grabbing hold of her buoyancy aid, he tows her back to the rocks. Between them, Harry and Noah haul her out.

  Coughing and spluttering, Flick sits on the ledge.

  Noah’s arm goes round her and he says, ‘You’re OK. You’re OK now.’

  Flick nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. I make my way back to her. ‘Are you all right?’

  She’s so shocked that she doesn’t even think to make a drama out of it. She must be bad. ‘I’m OK.’ Her voice is raspy, her breathing uneven and shallow. ‘But I think I’ve had enough now.’

  ‘You’ve done really well,’ Noah says.

  ‘I’ll get Callum,’ I say. ‘See if we can take a break.’ In a few brisk steps, my heart in my mouth, I catch up with him. ‘Flick’s just taken a dunking and it’s shaken her up.’

  ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Noah and Harry went in for her. Can we stop for a while?’

  ‘There’s a small beach just round the next rocks. Make your way there. I’ll go back and help her round.’

  I inch my way forward, following Art, and, a few minutes later, we make it to the safety of the beach. It’s a beautiful, sandy cove with no one else in sight. Art and I take off our helmets and, side by side, lie on our backs, trying to catch our breath.

  ‘This is fantastic,’ Art says, staring up at the wispy clouds. ‘I wish Ella had come along. She used to love this kind of thing.’

  What do I say? Do I tell Art that there’s a very good reason why his dearly beloved doesn’t want to be flinging herself off rocks into the sea? Should I keep Ella’s secret or should I give some kind of hint to help Art along?

  ‘Is she OK, Grace?’ he asks. ‘She doesn’t seem quite herself at the moment.’

  Look at her closely, I want to scream. Can’t you see the tell-tale bump she’s sporting?

  ‘Talk to her, Art. She’s got a lot going on at the moment.’ I settle for neutrality. ‘You guys should take some time to be alone together while you’re here. It won’t be long before you disappear off on your tour.’

  ‘She loves it down here, doesn’t she?’

  ‘I can’t say that I blame her.’

  ‘I guess Ella has an emotional attachment to the cottage that I don’t.’ He rolls on to his stomach and glances over at me.

  ‘I thought you were beginning to love it too. You seem to be having a lot of fun.’

  ‘This is great.’ Art nods towards the others who are just clambering down from the rocks. ‘The sea, the surf. I haven’t been so energetic in years. I could do a couple of weeks a year, at a push. But move down here permanently? No way. It’s too remote from the real world.’

  ‘Isn’t that supposed to be the major appeal?’

  ‘It would drive me to distraction.’

  ‘All that peace and quiet?’ I tease.

  Art laughs. ‘Can’t help it if I’m a rock’n’roller at heart.’

  I trace my fingers in the sand and avoid looking at him. ‘Do you think there’ll come a time when you’re tired of being on the road?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He shrugs. ‘I might look
like a raddled old druggie’ – Art looks nothing of the sort – ‘but I’m still young and I still love it. The new band I’ve signed could really go places. I want to take them as far as I can. There’s still life in the old dog. This game used to be for the fresh-faced youths, but age is no barrier now. You only have to look at Jagger and Richards to see that. I could go on until I get my free bus pass.’

  It looks as if Ella may be right. Art isn’t showing any signs of wanting to slide into the slow lane and settle down. She may not get her dream of them both moving down here any time soon.

  ‘I like somewhere with a bit more life, a bit more sun,’ he concludes. ‘She could get rid of this place and we could buy somewhere in Ibiza or Marbella.’

  I can’t think of anything worse and I know that Ella feels the same. Perhaps if we were twenty again, it would be a different story. But I can see that Ella is growing up, moving on, whereas Art isn’t. What she wanted when they met isn’t what she wants now. Ella could never part with Cwtch Cottage, I’m sure, and I don’t know why Art can’t see that.

  But, before we can talk about it further, Harry, Flick and Noah hit the beach and walk across to us. Flick flops down with a heartfelt sigh.

  ‘I need a good glass of chilled white or three after that torture!’ she declares.

  ‘Hear hear,’ Harry says and sits down next to her.

  ‘You’re not hurt?’ I ask.

  ‘Scraped my hand,’ she says. There’s a gritty and bloody graze on her palm. ‘And I’ve broken a fingernail!’

  Typical Flick. ‘A well-known sporting injury.’ I smile at her. ‘You did really well.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time left,’ Callum assures us. ‘We can rest here for as long as you like.’

  ‘I’m done,’ Flick says, throwing up her hands in resignation. ‘The trauma of a broken fingernail has put paid to my coasteering career. I need to get this gear off and head to the nearest bar for a serious recuperation session.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Harry agrees, rubbing his hands together.

  I can’t even bring myself to argue against him. If Harry really wants to go to the pub rather than do this, then that’s his choice. I’m not going to persuade him to stay.

  ‘You can walk back to the surf shop from here,’ Callum says. ‘Although we’ve come a long way around the rocks, it’s only a five-minute stroll across that field.’ He points out the route. ‘Then you’re there.’

  I sigh inwardly before I say, ‘Shouldn’t we all go back together?’

  It’s fair to say that Art and Noah don’t look too impressed by this suggestion.

  ‘The route after this is easier,’ Callum tells us. ‘And you’ve got options. There’s nothing you have to do.’

  ‘I think I’ve given coasteering all I have to give,’ Flick says. ‘Now I need to show a bar what I can do.’

  ‘You’ve got another hour that you’ve booked and paid for,’ Callum points out. ‘I can tailor it however you like.’ He’s obviously trying to be as helpful as possible. ‘It would be a shame to waste it.’

  ‘Of course it would,’ Flick says quickly. ‘Don’t change anything for us. We’re happier to opt out. Harry and I will be fine. We can totter back together.’

  Harry nods effusively.

  Flick is already unclipping her helmet and peeling off her buoyancy aid. ‘You lot should stay and enjoy it. Masochists.’

  Glances all round. Shrugged agreement from Noah.

  ‘I’m going to go back too, see if Ella’s all right,’ Art says, stripping off his buoyancy aid. ‘She might be getting lonely without me.’

  I wonder if our brief talk has made him think about things. I hope so.

  It looks as if it’s going to be just me and Noah again. Is that wise? I wonder. I should insist that we join the others. As much as it hurts my heart, I can’t resist the lure of having some time alone with him.

  ‘We’ll see you later,’ Flick says. ‘Have fun, the two of you.’

  With Harry and Art in tow, she turns away from the sea and the three of them head up the beach, leaving us behind.

  I stand and watch them go.

  ‘OK?’ Noah asks.

  ‘Yes. I’m fine.’

  There’s no way that I want to give up on the coasteering and go off to sit in the pub. This is the most alive I’ve felt in years. It seems no matter what I do, I’m destined to be thrown together with this man. And, do you know, I’m happy not to fight it.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Flick, Harry and Art are already at the top of the cliff by the time Noah and I set off with Callum again. They turn and wave at us. My heart feels lighter now that Flick and Harry have left us. I know it shouldn’t, but it does.

  We both fall into step alongside Callum and soon we’re climbing on rocks again, the warm sun at our backs, being splashed by the cool waves, forgetting everything but where to put our feet and hands to keep us moving safely. The dark cloud that covered us briefly has lifted. Our guide leads us round another outcrop of rocks. Perhaps worried that I’m going to be swept away like Flick, Noah grips my hand as we go.

  When we reach our next destination, Callum stands with his hands on his hips and nods towards the ocean crashing wildly below us. ‘This is called the washing machine!’ He has to shout above the roar of the pounding waves. ‘Ready to take a tumble?’

  We go to the edge of the rock. Below us the sea is a frothing maelstrom. The waves rushing into the jagged mouth of a huge, yawning cave are meeting the riptide coming out, creating a swirling whirlpool. It looks fabulous. And more than a little frightening.

  ‘There’s nothing to it,’ Callum assures us. ‘Just jump in and hang on for the ride!’

  ‘I’m up for it, if you are,’ Noah yells.

  I nod my agreement. With a deep breath, and before I think better of it, together we plunge feet first into the roiling sea.

  When I hit the water, I’m instantly thrown this way and that. In seconds I can’t tell which way up I am. First I’m whooshed forwards towards the cliffs and the gaping cave. Next I’m dragged back, spun round and tossed like a salad. There’s a terrible noise above the waves and I think it’s me screaming at the top of my lungs.

  Noah bobs up next to me. He shouts over the din, ‘OK?’

  ‘Fantastic!’ I yell back, getting a mouthful of water for my trouble and coughing it out again. We both twist and turn. When the wave catches me again, Noah grabs my hand and we’re thrown forwards together, rising on the crest of the breaker.

  ‘Woo-hoo!’ he cries out.

  Then, with a strength that’s awesome, the sea drags us away again and spins us as if we’re on a fairground waltzer. I can hear shouts of encouragement from Callum on the rocks, but I can’t make out a word he’s saying.

  ‘Aargh,’ I cry. ‘My shorts!’ Ahead of me I can see that, somehow in the chaos, I’ve become parted from my brightly coloured board shorts and they’re floating away from me on the waves.

  ‘I’ll get them!’ Noah says and he strikes out towards the pink and orange fabric.

  Thank goodness I’ve still got my wetsuit on and this hasn’t left me overly exposed.

  Effortlessly, he catches hold of them. My hero! As he swims back towards me, we’re both caught by the next onslaught of waves. I’m hit by one with a force that knocks the breath from me. The second is even bigger and, when it reaches us, it picks us both up and pelts us headlong towards the mouth of the cave.

  For the first time, the wave doesn’t abate, dashing me into the cool darkness of the chamber. Ahead of me, I can see Noah and he’s still hanging on to my shorts. ‘Grab them!’ he instructs.

  So I lunge forward, trying to swim against the current, and make a lurch for my shorts. Somehow, I manage to catch hold of the material and Noah pulls me towards him. The wave retreats and we’re left treading water together next to a smooth slab of rock just above waist height.

  ‘Let’s climb up,’ he says, panting. ‘We can have a look around the cave
. Catch our breath.’

  He clambers out first and half lifts, half drags me up by my buoyancy aid. I flop on to the rock in front of him, laughing hysterically.

  ‘That was such a rush,’ I puff out. ‘I think it’s scrambled my brain.’

  I’m sure if I tipped my head to one side, gallons of sea water would pour out of my ear.

  We’re giggling and breathless. I haul myself upright and try to shake off the water. Then I realise that we’re alone in the darkness and we’re both suddenly still.

 

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